Sil felt a sense of pride as she marched through the street. Rarely had she ever been trusted like this. Yig’s blunt way of speaking often bordered on foolishness, but at the very least, she knew when he was being honest.

  It made her reflect on her own decisions. She’d told herself she left Sharirun to gain more independence, to feel freer—and she did, even though she still took orders. It all came back to the same idea: trust.

  She heard the metal clink of armor as guards moved through the crowd, not far from her. Holding her breath, she slid past shoppers, all beaming with delight at the approaching celebration.

  Sil found herself swept up in the wonder of the festival again. It was hard not to be, surrounded by so many passionate faces—grinning old men drinking their fears away, young children helping hang up bunting. Like a stream, the festival flowed with chaos: unpredictable, yet flavored with an unsurprising joy. It was a welcome distraction from the lingering adrenaline of the night before. But her mind didn’t forget the man they’d helped. Why shouldn’t he have the chance to enjoy the festival with his family?

  As she scanned the crowd, senses heightened, she heard the clank of armor again—this time, much closer. Doing her best not to show she’d noticed, she slipped into an alley.

  And came face to face with a familiar snarl: a guard she’d encountered at the Jolly Orange.

  More guards rushed in until Sil found herself backed against a wall, surrounded by four familiar faces.

  “How come we’ve found you again?” barked one with a scruffy patch of red hair, shaved at the sides.

  “It’s bound to happen if you go looking for me.”

  The guard slammed his fist into the wall, narrowly missing Sil’s face. “I’m asking why you haven’t left yet.”

  “All are welcome at the Pink Holly Festival.”

  “Maybe so, but you ain’t welcome in our town.”

  Sil gritted her teeth. “So now you expect people to respect town boundaries? That’s rich.”

  The guard spat his words. “I knew it—you’re here as payback for your little farmer town!”

  Rage flared in Sil’s chest, but she held her tongue. These were the people. Her information had been right—they were invading towns. They invaded her friend’s town.

  “Disrespect of the law will not be tolerated!”

  The guard leaned back, fist clenched, aiming for her face. Sil’s arms moved on their own, flinging upward as a strip of parchment shot out and latched to a chimney. The punch grazed her cheek as she launched upward, out of the alley. The guard’s fist smashed into brick with a vicious crack, and he yelped, clutching it in pain.

  She heard their pursuit for just a second before she fired another parchment ribbon, swinging over the crowd with impressive control, quickly gaining distance from the alley. Landing on a rooftop, she sprinted fast—just in time to catch the eye of another guard who shouted for her to halt. But before he could react, she leapt to another building and fired another parchment line, gripping tight as it yanked her forward.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  As her body soared over Moonset, just below the rooftops, she felt a wild freedom. Like a bird—but tethered to the town by the parchment lines she swung from. Within them, she’d infused her aura, granting them the strength to carry her and the control to shift her mid-swing. One band snapped tight around a three-story tower; she pulled herself up and released, letting her support fall away.

  She floated through the air, vanishing from sight as she continued her escape.

  ◇─◇──◇─◇

  Yig was doing push-ups with Silver seated comfortably on his back. To his credit, he was still going. It was far more than Blū had expected.

  Blū walked over the fields of green. He never took the landscape of Moonset for granted. No matter how hard life felt, he could always walk out here and let his mind settle.

  “Well done,” Silver said, patting Yig’s shoulder. “That’s five hundred.”

  Yig kept going.

  Blū was impressed by his determination. But… people put themselves through a lot just for a bit of coin in their pocket. He sighed. Lately, Blū found himself more and more disturbed by his own thoughts. He hadn’t realized it was happening, and he knew the thoughts were justified. Still, it exhausted him, always being on guard. But that was necessary. Caution was a worthy price to pay if it meant avoiding disappointment—and he had been disappointed too many times.

  He clenched his teeth, dropped to the ground, and started doing his own push-ups. Five hundred sounded easy enough.

  ◇─◇──◇─◇

  The moss stank. Ule hated it. But it was necessary.

  The plan was going well—though more pressing matters had arisen since its start.

  “I don’t understand!” Quinlou said, as loud as ever. “Why are we waiting for some stupid warrant? Let’s go kill them now!”

  “If we don’t respect the law,” Liria cut in, “then what can we respect?”

  Dear gods… Even with all that moss in his head, the Guard Captain still clung to his precious ‘justice.’ But this time, he had a point.

  “We are the law!” Quinlou barked.

  “Settle down, Quinlou,” Ule commanded. “We’ll stay within the court’s bounds. We’ve worked too hard to get this position. We’re only going up from here—I won’t risk that.”

  Jug laughed. “Know your place, Quinlou. You should know by now—”

  “Yeah!” Seye shouted, interrupting. “Know your place!”

  Jug struck him, sending Seye tumbling across the room. “Don’t interrupt me, fool!”

  The back room of the Guard Station was neither spacious nor warm. Ule felt his patience wearing thin.

  “Ule!” Quinlou barked again.

  “I said quiet, Quinlou,” Ule snapped. “We don’t need any more attention. The chase yesterday already gave us too much.”

  Quinlou clicked his tongue in frustration but lowered his voice. “I simply don’t understand. No matter how long this project’s taken, it’s nothing compared to the reward of capturing that boy!”

  Ule considered that. Of course the thought had crossed his mind. But the risks… they were enormous. Gods, he hated waiting. He resented how long it had taken to seize control of the town. And it would still take months—maybe years—before it was truly his.

  Grime’s Dark Levula took weeks to take full effect. The moss that clung to the station’s beams slowly released its corrupting scent, warping the minds of the guards over countless hours of service. Some, unfortunately, had proven less lazy than hoped—patrolling overtime or pretending to work while sneaking off for snacks.

  Oh, how those little complications frustrated him.

  “Ule?” Quinlou said.

  “What do we do if we raid the place and the boy isn’t there? Or worse—if he’s surrounded by masters like the ones you faced in Sharirun? Even if we all survive, my plans will be completely exposed.”

  Quinlou bristled but seemed to agree, even as he turned his face to hide it.

  “Pardon, sir,” Liria spoke up. “But even if that’s the case, how would a warrant help? I doubt criminals that powerful will willingly bow to the law, even with a document in hand.”

  “Why raid them at all?” Quinlou said. “We can wait for them to come to the festival and ambush them there.”

  “How can you be so sure they’ll show?” Ule asked.

  “They’ll show.”

  Ule was slightly alarmed by Quinlou’s confidence. He acted like he knew something Ule didn’t.

  The door to the room burst open, rammed by a guard as he rushed in. “Sir! The girl! We’ve spotted her again!”